POV: ARIA FROST My eyes snapped open, my heart hammering against my ribs before my brain could even understand where I was. I was not lying in the mud outside anymore. The sound of pouring rain was muffled by the slanted wooden roof above me, beating heavily against it, while the smell of rot and wet earth had been replaced by the dry, dusty scent of old wood mixed with something else. Something heavy, sweet, and suffocatingly powerful. Sweet mint, dark chocolate, and roasted coffee. My breath caught in my throat as I tried to move, only to realize I could not. I was lying flat on a wooden bench inside a small, dilapidated hunter's cabin, and a massive body was leaning over me. Brecken Holt. The Alpha of Ironveil Pack was crouched over me, one heavy knee pressed against the bench while his large hands moved slowly over my torn dress, checking the deep cuts on my arms and the dark bruises forming along my ribs. His face looked like a hard, dangerous expression, and his gold
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